


Baby, We'll Be Counting Stars

by balancingprecariouslyontheedge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Maybe some angst, i guess, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balancingprecariouslyontheedge/pseuds/balancingprecariouslyontheedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*previously on tumblr*</p><p>Because sometimes the world's really big and Zayn feels really, really small and the stars are the only ones that understand. But now maybe Harry understands too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, We'll Be Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! So this is the first fic I'm posting here, sort of as an experiment. I'm currently in the process of shifting my fics from tumblr to here, but as of now, all my fics are on tumblr if you wanna give them a read. I'm keeping the dedications the same as they originally were on tumblr, and so this one is dedicated to my tumblr girlies: librarypictured, zayn-centric-duh, and bigsweatersandcuddleweather. And there's also a shout out to my-zaynie-boo and justzialling for being awesome.  
> Cheers!!

Harry couldn’t sleep.

He wasn’t exactly sure why. It might have something to do with the ear-shattering screaming going on outside their hotel. Or maybe it was the fact that they’d been on stage less than two hours ago, and the post show adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. It might even have been the knowledge that he had to be downstairs in the lobby by 5:30 am in order to squeeze in a quick morning show interview before catching a flight to the next city.

God, he needed to stop thinking so much.

Harry buried his head deeper in his pillow, trying desperately to keep out all of the swirling thoughts and screams that were driving him absolutely mental. The demonic screams only seemed to intensify with his increasing efforts to block them out, and finally Harry couldn’t take it anymore.  
"Fuck off," he shouted, hurling his pillow across the room. Harry wasn’t exactly sure who he was talking to, but right now he really just needed to breathe.  
He stumbled out of the bed, tripping over the random discarded objects strewn across the hotel room floor. This had been one of those times where the five of them had all ended up in separate hotel rooms. Too exhausted to care, they had all bade each other half-hearted good nights before stumbling into their respective rooms. Harry wondered when he'd started depending on the boys so much he needed them to sleep.  
Harry pulled on a hoodie before leaving the room, not really sure where he was going. He walked around in a sort of daze for a bit, not feeling tired yet yearning for sleep. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, he came a across a door marked 'stairs'. It hadn’t been closed properly, meaning someone had used it quite recently.  
Harry found himself drawn through the door the way he was drawn to Louis, Niall, Liam, and Zayn. Clutching the cold railing, he climbed up the stairs, going higher and higher until he found another door. A small draft sent chills down his spine, which could only mean that this door led outside, presumably the roof. Harry pushed open the door. The cool night air momentarily shocked him, but he recovered soon enough. He gazed around at the panoramic view before him. He could see for miles from up here, and the girls' screams were nothing more than a faint chant in the background. Huge buildings were spread out all over the city, lit up like Christmas trees. The colorful lights all shone brightly, in stark contrast to the murky blackness of the night sky. The faint scent of pine tickled Harry’s nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, trying to savor the addicting scent.  
As he took deep breaths, he began to notice a small, almost nonexistent murmuring. The barely discernible voice sounded oddly familiar, and it seemed to be coming from the other side of the expansive roof. Harry couldn’t exactly explain it, but some invisible force was pulling him forward, toward the distinct murmurings.  
He cautiously walked around to the other side and saw a lone figure sitting on the edge of the building, gazing at the night sky. The wind carried the words towards Harry, and they almost sounded like numbers. As he strode forward, it became obvious that the figure was a lad. His features became clearer in the pale moonlight, and Harry could make out dark hair and a skinny frame. After getting closer, he realized it was Zayn and picked up his pace.  
"…forty five, forty six, forty seven, forty eight…" It appeared as if Zayn was counting, but Harry wasn’t exactly sure what. Not sure what to do next, the curly haired boy quietly sat down next to Zayn.  
"…fifty nine, sixty,.," Harry’s leg accidentally brushed against the smaller boy’s thigh, and he jumped, startled out of his counting. Harry grinned at him sheepishly.  
"Couldn’t sleep." He explained, and Zayn smiled back and nodded slightly. They sat there in a companionable silence, Zayn gazing longingly at thee sky. After a few minutes, Harry’s curiosity got the better of him, and he broke the silence.  
"What were you doing?" It came out more blunt than he had originally intended, but that seemed to be the case with most things these days. Zayn looked at him questioningly.  
"With the numbers? I could hear you counting." Harry clarified, and a small red blush crept up Zayn’s neck. He stared pointedly at his lap, his legs swaying back and forth hundreds of feet above the ground filled with traffic and screaming girls.  
"I… I… it was nothing." Zayn finally said, his voice holding the smallest bit of fear.  
"It has to be something. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?" Harry guessed, and Zayn’s shoulders sagged. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up.  
"It’s…it’s…it’s nothing. Really. It’s stupid." Zayn stuttered slightly. He looked so impossibly small right then, and Harry really wanted to kiss him until his eyes scrunched up and he grinned that beautiful smile that him and countless others had fallen in love with,  
"It can’t possibly be stupid. Nothing you do is stupid. C’mon Zee, you can tell me anything. I promise I won’t laugh or tell anyone." Harry promised earnestly. Zayn looked at him for a long minute, and Harry shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable. The silence now felt as if it were made of glass, and both boys were afraid that if they spoke, they’d break it. But after almost a minute, Zayn spoke in a low, timid tone, his expressive eyes turning to face Harry.  
"It’s just… I… I’m not really sure how to explain it." He confessed, ducking his head. Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly, which promoted him to go on.  
"I…well…" Zayn thought for a minute, searching for the right words to describe his feelings.  
"We’re in this massive whirlwind industry where everything is just constantly changing. The people, the money, the fans, and all that. Suddenly, everyone’s opinions are supposed to matter, and they’re always changing their minds. All these rumors flying around are full of shit, and they’re always being twisted farther and farther from the truth. And Modest is always after us, trying to get us to mold into that perfect image that they need in order the make a few more quid. They’re always counting money, and they always want more. Everyone is changing their minds about what they want us to be, how we sing, what we do. It’s all just so… just… just so much." He paused for a breath, and Harry’s eyes had never left his perfectly sculpted face, listening with rapt attention as the words fell from Zayn’s mouth.  
"Sometimes, I sort of feel like the only thing that ever stay the same are the stars." Zayn trailed off, gesturing towards the vast expanse of night sky that Harry had never truly seen until now.  
The nighttime sky had always been nothing more than balls of gas and a giant white stone against a black background. But now, it was as if he was seeing things through Zayn’s perspective. The sky was an infinite, velvety blanket of inky blackness that held thousands of secrets, waiting to be discovered. The moon was an ever present, blindingly bright beacon of hope that guided people through the suffocating darkness. And the stars… Harry’s eyes widened as he craned his neck, trying to drink in the sheer beauty that he was just now opening his eyes to. The stars were brilliant, radiant, positively luminescent diamonds sprinkled over the blanket of black. Each individual told an unheard of story of love and loss and hope. They glittered brightly, no two even remotely the same. Yet they were always there, every single night since the dawn of time. Now that he was finally seeing it, Harry couldn’t understand how he’d missed the extravagant beauty that the night sky possessed.  
"Wow." He breathed dazedly, and Zayn smiled softly.  
"I know. And every night, they’re always there, in the same exact spot. It’s like… I can depend on them. While everything else in unpredictable and changing and just too much, I know that they’re always going to be there. I don’t really know why… It just keeps me from flying away. And while everyone else is counting money, or ratings, or Twitter followers, trivial stuff that could be gone in a second, I count stars…" Zayn trailed off, uncertain whether or not Harry would burst into scornful laughter. But Harry didn’t make a sound. His eyes never left the sky, and they were blown wider than saucers.  
"That’s… that’s amazing," he breathed, struggling to comprehend how Zayn had made logic out of the night sky.  
"You don’t think it’s weird? Or… or stupid?" Zayn asked dubiously, fear flickering in his eyes. He had been utterly convinced that counting stars was a rather odd ritual, and that this would always remain his dirty little secret. Harry turned to him, and his emerald eyes were held nothing but sincerity and something else... love? Fondness? Zayn shook his head and broke away from his spiraling thoughts.  
"I promise you, nothing you ever do is stupid or weird. You are absolutely brilliant, Zayn. I’ve never seen the sky like this before, but now I feel like a dolt because it’s always been there. Thank you for showing me." Harry finished off with a fiery glint in his eyes, and Zayn could could feel foreign, unexplainable fireworks exploding in his chest. They left him with a newfound feeling of ecstasy that left him clueless as to why Harry would make him feel this way. As he’d been trapped in his thoughts, they had gravitated closer toward each other, until they were just mere inches apart. Harry smiled softly at him before closing the gap.  
The fireworks Zayn had felt before were nothing compared to this. Huge explosions filled his chest and drowned out his heartbeat until everything was just HarryHarryHarry. Goosebumps rose on his skin and tingles raced up and down his spine. His eyes were closed, impossibly long eyelashes brushing over the smooth skin of his lightly tanned face. Their breaths mingled, until soon, they just had to breath so Harry gently pulled away. And for the first time, Zayn was left speechless.  
"I think I love you." Harry whispered, and Zayn opened his eyes slowly.  
"I think I love you too."

The next morning came all too soon, but waking up at the crack of dawn had it’s perks. For example, walking up to seeing a raven haired beauty curled up in your arms while remembering your confessions of love from the night before. Zayn looked like a complete angel, taking small, dainty breaths in his sleep, delicate chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. A soft smile graced his plump, pink lips and Harry couldn’t resist planting a chaste kiss on them.  
"Zayn? Babe, we’ve got to be downstairs in twenty minute or dear old Pauly will leave without us." He shook the smaller boy lightly, hating the fact the he had to wake him up.  
“‘m tiiiiiired,” Zayn whined, voice dripping with sleep.  
"I know, boo. But we’ve got an interview, and then a flight out of here." Harry explained gently. Zayn groaned, but sat up nonetheless. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, while Harry was already up and in action.  
"You can use the bathroom first. I’ve got to shove all my stuff in my suitcase," Harry declared with a sigh, surveying the mess of shirts and cords and shoes spread out in the oddest of places.  
"This might take a bit." He grumbled, and Zayn giggled, which sounded like children’s laughter on a breezy, cool summer day to Harry’s ears.  
Exactly nineteen minutes later, Liam pounded on the door, shouting that he couldn’t find Zayn, and that Harry’d better be downstairs with his bags within the next two minute. Harry shouted an irate ‘I’m coming!' back and hastily zipped his overflowing suitcase shut. Zayn had slipped out to grab his belongings, and that was the one thing that urged Harry to get his ass downstairs.  
Breakfast consisted of grabbing a bagel and a cuppa and being manhandled through hordes of screaming girls into a van. The second the door slammed shut, there was a collective sigh of relief and Niall had terminated his bagel within the next thirty seconds. Louis and Liam were in a heated debate about football. Zayn’s eyes fluttered shut and he snuggled into Harry’s side. The curly haired boy put and arm around him and watched as Zayn fell into the clutches of sleep once again. He was so caught up in staring at the physical perfection on Zayn’s face that Louis’s loud clearing of his throat scared him. Louis looked him in the eye and grinned knowingly, gesturing towards the sleeping boy.  
’Good on you,’ he mouthed with a wink, and Harry’s cheeks turned pink. Louis smirked before turning back to Liam and shouting something about Cristiano Ronaldo. Louis knew him too well.  
"C’mon lads," Paul ordered as he yanked open the door, giving them a moment to adjust to the ear piercing shrieks. Zayn stirred in his sleep, and Harry had no choice but to wake him up again.  
"Zaynie? Love, we’re here," He whispered, shaking the smaller boy. Harry heard a small sigh before Zayn sat up, his face looking absolutely adorable with droopy eyelids and pouring lip.  
Harry grinned and ruffled his hair. Zayn let out an indignant shriek of protest before quickly fixing his hair the best he could and flinging himself out the door, Harry right behind him.  
Instantly, they were overwhelmed with throngs of fans. Harry pulled Zayn into his side protectively before blindly reaching forward and somehow grasping Niall’s hand. He assumed that Niall had grabbed Louis’s hand, and Louis had grabbed Liam’s. This was how their dynamics worked, pulling each other along as they explored the uncharted territories of the music industry. If one of them was missing, everything would get screwed up and they’d all eventually collapse.  
Preston hollered something from somewhere on Harry’s right, and he could just barely make out Paul pushing his way next to Liam. A manicured hand shot out and clutched Harry’s shirt so suddenly that he nearly fell flat on his face. But Zayn was there, trying to tug him along while the girls swarmed around him.  
Bursting through the studio door, the five boys all collapsed in a huge heap of panting body’s and aching limbs. Niall said something about enthusiasm and they all burst into fits of giggles which was a little alarming considering it hadn’t even been funny. Louis rolled over until he wasn’t at the top of the pile of boys, and Liam followed his suit. Zayn carefully extricated himself from underneath Harry and Niall.  
Once they had all picked themselves up and brushed themselves off, Lou came rushing in through the hall and shrieked about ‘how Harry’s hair looked like rats had made love in it, Louis was not Santa and therefore should shave immediately, Liam was not David Beckham, there were bags under the bags of Zayn’s eyes, and dear god, Niall, how many times have I told you not to wear that shirt?!’  
The next twenty six minutes were filled with hairspray, shaving cream, scissors, and 'Louis, do not fucking touch my biscuit.’ A nervous looking intern stepped in and informed them that they’d be on in five minutes. Zayn flashed her a grateful smile and the poor girl looked ready to swoon. Harry stared at her coldly until she blushed scarlet and scurried away, and Zayn let out a loud laugh.  
"Something wrong, Harreh?" He asked cheekily, and Harry stuck his tongue out at him.  
"Not anymore."  
"And here we have One Direction!" As their band name blared through the speakers, the boys walked onto the stage, full of bouncing energy and infectious smiles. They piled onto the couch, all entangled with each other until no one could really tell if that was Liam’s arm or Niall’s leg. Harry kept his fingers entwined with Zayn where no cameras could catch them, giving the smaller hand random squeezes which put a pleased smile on both their faces. The interview went on as expected, with the same generic questions to which they had memorized the answers to. The five boys were constantly fidgeting, tickling each other and shoving others of the couch, but this was to be expected.  
"Sadly, that’s all the time we have for today. Thank you so much for joining us boys! Let’s hear it for Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis, and Zayn!" Louis jumped on Liam’s back the moment they stepped offstage, and Harry pulled Zayn onto his.  
"Mush, Liam, mush! Let us go on an adventure!" Louis declared, Liam staggering under his weight. Niall was near hysterics, doubled over in laughter with his face blotchy red. Zayn laughed, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh too. Until Paul came in, announcing that they had to be out of here within the next ten minutes if the wanted to catch their flight. Security members herded them to the door, and the five boys braces themselves, already groping for each others’ hands. Zayn was still on Harry’s back, mainly because the taller boy would not let him down not matter what. When the doors opened, they were all sure they were ready.

They weren’t.

Something was clearly off the second the first person set foot outside. Many of the screams and shrieks sounded a bit more demonic and angry than earlier, though they were all positive these were the same fans as before. More and more hands broke through the barrier and grabbed and clawed at thin air, trying desperately to be able to say that they’d touched a member of One Direction. Suddenly, Harry couldn’t feel Louis’s hand anymore, and a shock of blond hair in the crazy midst of the girls indicated that Niall had also been separated. Harry had no idea if Liam had made it to the van already, or if he was attempting to help the others. An iPhone with his own face plastered on the case hit the back of his neck, and suddenly there were hands grabbing at him everywhere. Hunching his back and surging forward, Harry was hit with many other inanimate objects, and with all of the chaos, it took Harry a bit to realize that shit, where the hell was Zayn?!  
His mind went into a frenzied overdrive as he frantically glanced around, trying to find the smaller lad who could easily be ripped apart in this mob.  
"Fuck," he swore under his breath, trying to crane his neck high enough to catch a glimpse of Zayn. A sharp nail dug into his arm, dragging down hard enough to break the skin. Harry yelped in pain, rubbing his stinging arm and barely dodging a flying bra.  
"ZAYN!" He shouted, doubting anyone could hear him through this mess. Then it occurred to him that Zayn might’ve already made it back to the van, and the other lads probably had gotten there too. A thousand pounds lifted from his shoulders, and Harry felt like he could breathe again.  
Shoving his way through the crowd, his hand finally smacked in something cold and hard. ‘The van,' he thought with relief, and carefully felt his way to the door.  
"You’re alive!" Niall cheered once Harry burst into the van, the door barely being shielded by security.  
"Barely," he responded, feeling exhausted. Liam looked at him with concern, and Louis’s hair was sticking up at such an odd angle that Harry had to let out a chuckle. Louis stuck his tongue out at him, and Niall and Liam both laughed. Wait…. Louis, Niall, Liam…  
"Where the hell is Zayn?!" Both Harry and Louis asked at the same time. Realization dawned on their faces at the same time, the fear and panic slowly settling in.  
"Fuck, I thought he was with you!" Louis cried out, pressing his panicked face against the glass, trying to find Zayn.  
"When I lost your hand, I got him by a shitload of stuff. Zayn must’ve been pulled away. Shit, I thought he’d already gotten into the van!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wild and scared.  
"He’s still out there," Liam realized, utterly horrified.  
"Shit, fucking goddamn shit," Niall muttered, pressing his face next to Louis's.  
"Harry, NO!" Liam cried out, and both head swiveled around just in time to see Harry diving back into the crowd.  
"They’ll eat both of them!" Louis shrieked. Preston head appeared in the doorway.  
"Lads, whatever you do, do not get out of this van. We’ve lost Zayn, and just now Harry." He ordered sternly, and the three of them gulped nervously but nodded. Preston, turned around and shouted something into his microphone, trying to communicate with the other security members.  
In the meanwhile, Harry had no second thoughts or qualms about jumping back in to save his boyfriend. Confused shrieks of pleasure erupted around them, but he paid them no heed as he desperately tried to find Zayn.  
"ZAYN!!" He screamed, his voice slightly hoarse. Harry strained his ears, trying to detect the familiar voice amongst the millions of unfamiliar ones. For a second, he swore he saw a small tuft of raven black hair through a few girls’ legs, and he quickly crouched down and begun to crawl, trying not to get trampled.

Then Harry found him. And shit, this was bad.

Zayn was curled up in the smallest ball imaginable, his thin arms wrapped around his knees, pulling them closer than humanly possible. His face was buried in his knees, and his entire body was trembling. Both his shoes were missing, most likely torn apart by rabid girls. There was a large rip running up his pant leg, from the bottom to then knee, and Harry felt slightly nauseous when he saw the steady trickle of blood lining the cut.  
"Zayn," he whispered, and miraculously, Zayn heard him. The smaller boy lifted his head out of his knees slightly, and the tear tracks were plainly visible. A large bruise blossomed on his right cheek, and a large cut rested directly above his eyelid. But his eyes, oh his eyes were what had Harry’s heart aching.  
The sheer amount of pure terror in those coffee orbs was absolutely devastating. Not even a hint of anything else. A thick stream of tears were flowing as steadily as the blood on his leg. Long legged fans tripped and stumbled over him, and Harry wasn’t sure they even knew where Zayn was.  
"I’m right here, babe. I promise you, I’m not leaving. Not without you." Harry soothed, reaching his arm out. Zayn just looked at him, the undeniable fear still present in his beautiful eyes. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.  
Surging forward, he grabbed Zayn and somehow managed to half pick him up in one swift, fluid motion. He couldn’t be bothered with being polite, he pushed and shoved his way towards the van, almost stumbling straight into it. A large, strong hand wrapped around his shoulder and roughly yanked him, practically throwing him into the car. Harry glanced up and realized it had been Paul, and he shot him a grateful look. The older man slammed the door shut and went around the side in order to reach the driver’s seat.  
Finally, they were met with a blissful silence, save for the muffled screams of the fans.  
No one said a word, and the only sounds heard were the panting breathes that filled up the confined space. Their thoughts were all swirling because what the fuck had just happened?! The silence remained, heavy and somber like storm clouds. Until a lone, muffled sob broke the glass.  
Everyone’s first thought was Niall, but he still had wide, incredulous eyes, looking far far away. And then the blonde seemed to snap out of his daze and he stared straight ahead. Harry followed his gaze and there, with his face buried deep within his knees, was Zayn. His back was literally shaking with suppressed sobs. Blood was still slowly falling from his cut, staining his jeans a nauseating shade of red.  
Instantly, four pairs of arms were all over him, whispering small reassurances and trying to staunch the blood. But Zayn was only looking for one pair of arms. A pair of arms that belonged to a certain green eyed, curly haired boy. Harry seemed to sense this, as he snaked his arms around Zayn’s narrow waist. Zayn buried his face in the taller’s lad’s neck, breathing in as much of the addicting scent as he could as he tried to calm his nerves.  
"H-h-Harry…" Zayn whimpered, inhaling deeply. Harry carded his fingers through the messy black locks.  
"Shh babe. Don’t worry. I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go. Never, you hear me?" The fire in his words had everyone convinced. Except for Zayn, it seemed. The dark haired boy didn’t say a word, just kept his head buried in Harry’s neck and sniffling.  
A few hours later, they were sitting in yet another plane of a nameless airline, preparing for take off. They had the entire first class to themselves, and Zayn had insisted on sitting in a row by himself, even though it was no secret that he was absolutely terrified of flying, taking off in particular.  
"Flight crew, prepare for take off." The captain’s voice sounded over the intercom. Harry discreetly glanced over at Zayn from his seat next to Liam, noting the way his grip tightened on the arm rests, knuckles almost white. Zayn’s face was turned to stare out the window, so Harry couldn’t see his expression, but he could imagine he was barely holding it together.  
As the plane picked up speed on the run way, the boys lacked their usually boisterous banter, still to shocked by what had gone down earlier. Harry focused on the rapid rise and fall of Zayn’s chest. Clearly, he was panicking. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.  
The second before the wheels of the aircraft lifted off the ground, Harry undid his seatbelt and dove into the seat next to Zayn. The flight attendant shot him a lethal glare, but Harry could care less. Liam looked at him questioningly, but then a thought struck him and he winked before turning to look out the window.  
Zayn’s small hand clutched the seat rest, and Harry could hear him murmuring. Peering over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the many stars already sprinkled over the darkening sky. A small smile crossed his face as he realized what he was doing.  
"…nineteentwentytwentyonetwentytwotwentythreetwentyfourtwentyfivetwentysix…” Zayn was counting so fast it all sound like one large number, and his grip on the arm rest was tightening even more than humanely possible. Harry placed his much larger hand over Zayn’s adorably tinier one, and, if it hadn’t been for the seat belt, Zayn would jumped high enough to hit his head off the roof. He glanced at Harry quickly before turning back and continuing.  
”thirtyfourthirtyfivethirtysixthirtyseven…” The curly haired boy considered interrupting, but immediately shot that idea down. This was the one thing that kept Zayn’s feet planted firmly on the ground when it felt like everything was crashing down on the all. Especially in situations like getting mobbed. Then a new thought struck him.  
Harry wanted it to be him that kept Zayn sane; the one that took care of him, held him through his misery and made him happy. He wanted to be the sun to Zayn’s moon, the night sky to his stars.  
"…fiftyninesixtysixtyonesixtytwo…”  
Harry wanted to be the stars that Zayn counted.  
"…sixtysevensixtyeightsixtynine…”  
"Seventy," Harry chimed in, and Zayn entire body whirled around. He was rigid and extremely tense, not moving a muscle as he stated at the taller boy. His expression was taut, but his eyes told an untold story of fear mixed with anxiety. Without a word, Harry gently pried Zayn’s wiry fingers off of their chokehold on the arm rests and cradled the hand as if it were made of glass. The dark haired boy sucked his breath, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face. Cautiously, Harry pulled Zayn into an embrace, his finger dancing up and down his spine. Small shivers wracked his little frame, and Harry held him through it all.  
"It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. C’mon now," Harry coaxed, and then continued what Zayn had started.  
"Seventy one, seventy two, seventy three, seventy four…" He determinedly kept at it, until finally Zayn piped up.  
"One hundred." Smiling at each other, the two thought of the significance of the moment, and about the sparks flying everywhere.  
"I want to be your stars, Zayn," Harry whispered, a silent pleading tone in his voice. Zayn seemed a bit taken aback by the plea, but pondered over the idea nonetheless. Just as Harry was beginning to think that he’d made a mistake, that he should start regretting his words, a shy smile touched Zayn’s pink, plump lips. His incredibly long eyelashes glanced over his smooth, tanned skin before he nodded hesitantly.  
"You already are," he mumbled timidly, staring at his lap. A face splitting grin spread over Harry’s face, exposing dimples deeper than the Grand Canyon. He placed to fingers under Zayn’s chin and gently brought his face up to look him in the eyes. Emerald green met chocolate brown.  
"And while everyone else is counting dollars, we’ll be counting stars."


End file.
